The Last Goodbye
by Sharona1981
Summary: Takes place after Hellseeker: Kirsty has a ghostly visitor, in the form of a certain WW1 captain. Better summary inside.


**The Last Goodbye-a Hellraiser Oneshot.**

(_**Takes place after Hellraiser: Hellseeker. AU. After the death of her husband and her encounter with Pinhead, Kirsty Cotton receives some harsh home truths in the form of a ghostly World War One captain. In my story, Elliot's soul is still in Limbo, after the events of Hellbound, and he and Pinhead are still separate entities. I own nothing-although owning Elliot would be nice, lol. Credit goes to the appropriate parties.)**_

Perhaps she no longer had a conscience. Perhaps she no longer cared. About herself, or anyone else. It certainly felt that way to Kirsty. Why else would she feel not even the slightest twinge of regret about murdering her husband Trevor, those women, that man? Of course, it was true that her dearly departed husband had been a cheating, lying scumbag who had screwed said women, and plotted with said man to have her killed.

So, _really_-was it surprising that she felt nothing about the whole situation?

Truthfully, though, it _did_ surprise her. It _did_ bother her. She used to be such a good girl, so naive and innocent. Until she'd been corrupted, beyond recognition. And no, not by Trevor.

By the box.

By _him_.

She'd opened the box ostensibly because Trevor had demanded it, but deep down, deep in a decaying, hidden part of her soul, she'd wanted to see _him_ again. The demon. The Cenobite. That grotesque, beautiful creature who, for so long now, had offered her a life beyond the inconsequential existence she had known for so long. He had offered to show her his world, his Hell, where pain and pleasure blurred indistinguishably.

The first time she'd met them had, of course, been an accident. She'd opened the box, not knowing what it really was. But back then, her curiosity had almost been her downfall.

And she _had_ been curious. And he'd _known_. Even now, she could hear the earnest desire in his voice:

"_We have such sights to show you_!"

He had said 'we', but Kirsty suspected now that, even then, he had wanted her all to himself.

The second time, she'd been looking for her father, and he had mocked her devotion:

"_He is in his own Hell, child...just as you are in yours_..."

And then she'd played her trump card, showing him that photograph, reminding him, and those other demons, of their lost humanity.

When she'd found that picture at the Channard Institute, instinct had told her exactly who it was-or who it _used_ to be. Hard to believe that the handsome soldier in that picture was now something so terrifying, so inhuman.

She still remembered the pain etched on that pin-studded face, before he'd shown her the one he used to wear:

"_I...__**remember**_..."

He'd sacrificed himself to let her flee the Labyrinth, to escape Channard, or the demon Channard had become...and she'd thought that was that. That she was done with puzzle boxes and Cenobites and Hell, forever.

Until Trevor brought her the box, and she'd come face to face with a part of her past she'd spent years struggling to forget. Or, convinced herself she'd been struggling to forget.

Of course, he'd remembered her, only too well:

"_Kirsty. We meet again_."

The things he had said to her, full of cold yearning and dark promise, had spoken to that dark part of her soul again. And his need to possess her utterly was made crystal clear:

"_I will not rest until I get what I want-and what I want is you_."

He'd been prepared to take her to the Hell he'd promised her long ago, and then, she'd made her offer:

"_I will give you five souls, in exchange for mine_..."

She'd intrigued him, she knew that now; perhaps he hadn't really believed she was capable of taking one life, never mind five. But she'd done it, desperate to save her own skin.

Only now, she found herself alone, still desperate, and wondering if her skin was even _worth_ saving.

And even worse, she was still thinking of _him_:

"_After all these years, surely you've realized it's you that wants me here_..."

Was he right? Kirsty thought, horrified. Did some unspeakable part of herself actually feel..._desire_ for that thing, for the Hell he'd offered her?

Because if she did, she truly _was_ damned...

Sleep didn't come easily to Kirsty. It hadn't for years. The hours she spent in bed, especially now, usually consisted of a lot of tossing and turning, before she threw back the covers and headed to the kitchen for coffee. She was afraid to sleep, if she was honest-because when she closed her eyes, she didn't see Trevor, or the massacre she had committed...

All she saw was _him_.

Which was why she found herself surprised to open her eyes in bed one might about two weeks after the...incident, and found her apartment ablaze with pulsing orange light.

She thought she was dreaming. And thought she was dreaming even more when she inexplicably found herself standing in a field moments later. A field filled with dead bodies.

Kirsty looked around her, unsure of what to make of all of this. This had to be the most bizarre dream she had ever had-and that was saying something. And then, she saw the figure standing in the shadows, dressed in military uniform, his arms folded. She couldn't really see his face, but could see his eyes, a frosted shade of blue, staring intently at her. They looked angry.

"Hello, Kirsty." His voice sounded as cold as his eyes looked, and Kirsty shivered, not just at the icy tone of the voice, but at the stab of familiarity the voice evoked in her.

She..._knew_ that voice, that distinctive British accent.

"Where the Hell am I?" She demanded, no longer entirely sure she was dreaming, masking unbidden fear with bravado. "And who are _you_?"

"What's the matter, Kirsty?" The silhouette approached her, and as the shadows dissipated from around his form, she let out an involuntary gasp. "You don't remember me?"

Kirsty gazed up at the handsome features, set in cold, angry lines, the face she'd memorized from that photograph, from that moment when he'd helped her escape Hell by staying behind to die.

It was _him_. But _not_ him.

"_You_!" She exclaimed. "But you're..._human_. How?"

He snorted derisively. "I haven't been _human_ in decades." He retorted. "And from what I've seen, you've lost your humanity as well." Off Kirsty's puzzled look, he added, "My name is Elliot Spenser. Captain Elliot Spenser, British Expeditionary Force. Or, at least, I _was_." He smiled mockingly. "You remember, don't you? We met before, once."

Of course she remembered. But the eyes had been sad then, the smile he'd bestowed on her genuine and tender. Right now, he only looked angry.

She nodded, then asked, "Where am I? Is this...Hell?"

Elliot shook his head, slowly, mockery evident in every movement. "You've _been_ to Hell." He snapped. "Just as _I _have. Only your visits have been a little less _permanent_, haven't they, love?" An impatient pause, and then louder, angrier, "Does this _look_ like Hell to you? This is Limbo, where you sent me when you released my soul. You remember, don't you?"

"What-?" Kirsty's line of questioning was brutally cut short when Elliot suddenly lunged forward, gripping her shoulders. "What the _bloody Hell_ did you do?" He yelled into her shocked face. "Do you think this is a _game_, Kirsty? Do you think you've _won_?"

Feigning confusion wasn't easy when she knew exactly what he was referring to. Still, she asked, "What do you mean?" Elliot sneered at her, handsome face contorting. "Still playing the innocent, Kirsty? You disappoint me."

Kirsty recoiled from him, remembering exactly where she'd heard those words, and from whom. Then she watched as his expression changed, morphing into one of sadness, and...pity? "You belong to him now, Kirsty." He murmured. "And deep down, you know that, don't you? You _welcome_ it."

"He let me go." It was exactly the wrong thing to say, as Elliot roughly grabbed her arm and wrenched her to him, eyes flashing. And, just like that, Kirsty realized that there had probably been a monster in this man before he'd ever opened the box. In fact, that inner monster was probably the _reason_ he'd become what he had.

"He didn't let you _go_." Elliot retorted, voice rising with every syllable. "He'll _never_ let you go, don't you understand? Did you think when you killed those people, when you gave him those souls, that he would just conveniently _forget_ about you? He doesn't _forge_t. He _never_ forgets." A pause, and he released her. He looked resigned now, and Kirsty couldn't help but feel uneasy at how temperamental this man was. Or, _had_ been. After all, he _was_ dead.

I know him better than anyone, Kirsty." Elliot continued quietly. "After all, for decades, I _was_ him. As he was _me_. Until you released my soul, and I was sent to this place-but I remember. I remember his desire. He didn't let you go-he took those souls, knowing that yours was now tainted, that your innocence was destroyed. He allowed you to leave, knowing you were one step closer to becoming _his_."

Kirsty shook her head, tears welling up, unwilling to believe, unwilling to _accept,_ what he was saying. But other than him, who knew more about such things? "Why me?" She whispered, voice choking up. "Why does he want _me_?"

"At first, it was your youth, your innocence." Elliot explained. "The moment you opened that box, although it was an accident, he wanted you. And then, when you displayed curiosity, it only fed his desire. He would have taken you then, but you escaped. And then, when we met, you were looking for your father." He paused, as if thinking, then went on, "They answer the call of desire. And your desire to find your father was enough for him. And then, you released my soul..."

"And you let me leave." Kirsty finished his sentence, and Elliot nodded. "_I_ did." He confirmed. "_He_ wouldn't have."

Kirsty shook her head, remembering his words from their last meeting:

"..._You will not have forgotten, I gave myself to let you run. Did you think that gift was nobly and freely given? __**Did**__ you_?"

As if reading her mind, Elliot told her, "When my soul left his body, the order was gone from the Cenobite. He remains in Hell, but I am here. He didn't give himself for you, Kirsty. He never would. That was me."

"Why?" Kirsty couldn't hold back the question, and to her surprise, Elliot smiled, and for a moment, she saw the handsome, upstanding soldier he had once been. If they answered the call of desire...what exactly had Elliot desired?

"You." Kirsty jumped at the unexpected reply, and at first, confused, she thought she'd spoken aloud, until he continued, "I gave myself because it was _you_. Don't you see, Kirsty? His desire was also mine. But I wanted the sweet, innocent young woman you were then, while he wanted to feed on your curiosity, what was underneath, the darkness he was nurturing, without you even knowing. But now, I'm not sure there's anything left in you _but _darkness, after what you've done."

Kirsty shivered as Elliot's fingers brushed her cheek, and her heart-the tiny part of it that still _felt _anything, at least-ached at the sadness in those beautiful blue eyes. To be honest, she kind of preferred him angry-she found him easier to deal with, almost. She couldn't handle the grief and pain now shimmering in those icy depths.

"I loved you, Kirsty." He murmured. "I thought I'd forgotten _how_ to love, but you were so beautiful, so determined. And my soul wept for you, when I thought they'd take you. That's why I jumped at the chance to let you leave-you'd saved me. _Me_. Not him. Not realizing until it was too late that it wasn't me you wanted. Deep down, it was always _him_, wasn't it? I tried so hard to save you, but now...now you're beyond saving. You're his, Kirsty. And I wash my hands of you. I have to."

As he turned from her, Kirsty looked at his retreating back in shock and anguish. Elliot had loved her. The _man_ had loved her, as the demon had _wanted_ her. But...he was right, wasn't he? It was the _other_ him she wanted, wasn't it?

"I'm still alive." Kirsty protested weakly, and she frowned as Elliot's shoulders began to shake, until he turned and she realized he was laughing, even though he didn't seem to find any of this funny. "For how long, Kirsty?" He practically spat at her. "We both know that sooner or late, you're going to open the box again-why else did you take it from that policeman when he offered it back to you? And the next time you open it, there will be no more deals-he won't settle for any soul, other than _yours_." He smiled, sadness once again flooding his features, as he said, "Goodbye, Kirsty. And this time, it's for the _last _time."

And in a flash of light, Elliot was gone.

Less than a week later, just as Elliot had predicted she would, Kirsty opened the Lament Configuration one final time, sealing her fate, for all eternity...

_**(Okay, maybe a bit of a downer, but this fic just came to me out of the blue. Feel free to R&R as always!) **_


End file.
